


Eden

by Jennifer89



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arthurian, Family, Fantasy, Gen, Kidnapping, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Missing Persons, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Renaissance Faires, Secrets, Short, Witch Curses, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennifer89/pseuds/Jennifer89
Summary: It has been a year since Imogene has seen her brother, now on the anniversary of his disappearance will she go to far in her pursuit to find him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is still in the works, all constructive criticism is appreciated.

The old market of the Renaissance faire hummed with life all around me. Clutching my papers closer to my chest I moved over to the side of the muddy path in order to get out of the way of the horses that were pulling carts up and down to the market.  
“Add to the authenticity my ass,” I muttered to myself as I jumped out of the way of another cart, causing me to smack into the corner of one of the rickety wooden stalls that were lined up all along the side of the street and to scatter my papers all over the ground. While bending down to retrieve my runaway leaflets I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sounds of the faire. Tried to block out the sound of people laughing at the jester’s mediocre jokes, the whinnying of the horses, the smell of the roasting turkey legs. Tried to block out the memories of Anthony wandering these streets with a look of utmost glee on his face. Tried to ignore the well-meaning yet annoying boy that kept asking if he “mayhap” help this “fair maiden”. I opened my eyes to the ground and found that my hand was on top of a now soiled year old picture of Anthony with the word ‘missing’ written in large red letters along the bottom of the photograph. All at once it became too much, fighting desperately to hold back the tears that had begun to spring forth I crumpled the last poster in my hand and ran off away from the market place through the small paths between the tents. I ran until I felt sufficiently lost in the maze of behind the scene stuff that no one, save those working the faire, was supposed to see.  
Sitting with my back against a wall of one of the actor’s tent I brought my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I buried my head, the papers all but forgotten and sat like that for quite some time. Eventually I registered the shift in the heat of the sun against the top of my head and convinced myself to get up.  
“You can’t help find him if you’re moping around her all day,” I reasoned. I eventually found my way out of the sea of white tents to what looked to be another part of the market. I patted my clothes down and straightened my ridiculous cone shaped hat, “Did people really wear these?” I remember thinking, and continued on my quest to find my brother.  
* * * *  
“Are you sure you haven’t seen this boy anywhere?” I desperately asked the poor man running one of the turkey leg stalls.  
“I’m sorry my Lady, I’ve already told you tha’ I haven’t seen anyone who looks like this all day today,” the man replied in a thick Irish accent.  
“Promise me you’ll keep an eye out for him?” I pleaded.  
“O’ course I will, I’ll even take one of those pictures of your’s and ‘ang it in front of the cart if yee’d like.”  
After bidding the man a good day and giving him one of the papers from my steadily dwindling stack I trudged back up the street in hopes of finding a stall that I had yet to pester. “At least I got the word out,” I thought, “at least there will be a few more people looking.” And this was true, with the exception of one bitter old man who yelled at me for wasting his time and then not buying any of his crappy wooden swords, everyone had seemed sincere in their vow to help look for Anthony.  
“Not that that means anything,” whispered a little voice in the back of my head, “If any of them even remember to look it’s been over a year since he went missing, no one’s finding him anytime soon.”  
“No,” I assured myself, “I will find him, he is okay, he has to be okay.”  
“Whatever you say,” the voice replied. Walking around the edges of the fair I noticed a small off-shoot of the market that I had not seen before. Hoping that the small alleyway was not just there to keep the port-a-potties from “destroying the realism” I turned off onto it. To my surprise there was a small smattering of stalls, though they were even more rickety than the ones found on the main streets. Most of the stations sold items similar to those found at other stalls, all except for one. At the very end of the lane was an old woman working a booth that was draped in an array of purple and gold cloths. The woman was well-feed but rather small in height, and the hunch in her shoulders did not help the situation. Her attire made it obvious that she was going for the Gypsie fortune teller vibe, well that and the fact that the sign said ‘Viviane’s Charms and Readings’. “Let’s get the crazy one out of the way first.”  
“Why hello dear,” the woman, Viviane, said, “what brings you to my neck of the woods?”  
“Well I-”  
“Oh let me guess!” she said excitedly while cutting me off. In an attempt to hide my annoyance for having been interrupted I nodded for her to continue. “Let me see,” she said, grabbing my hands and looking deep into my eyes, “you’re looking for someone, someone who is lost, someone very close to you, a family member, a brother perhaps”  
“How does she know that?” I thought while quickly withdrawing my hands from hers  
“You idiot, she can probably see those missing papers you have tucked under your arm.”  
“Can you help me find him or not?” I asked the woman instead.  
“Why of course, my powers over the spirit orb would allow for me to find anyone your heart desires.”  
“Well thanks but no thanks,” I said, turning away from her stall, “I think that I’ll go find someone who can actually help me get my brother back.”  
“How do you know I can’t?” she implored while misting one of the potted plants she had sitting behind her table, “After all, you’ve tried everything else, a little reading can only help you at this point.”  
“She’s right you know,” the voice said, “what do we have to lose?”  
“Alright,” I said defeatedly and slowly turned around and took out my wallet, “how much do you want?”  
“Oh I’ll just need a little something to add to my collection. And don’t worry,” she added upon looking at my questioning face, “I guarantee you’ll have it when the time comes.”  
“What do you mean when the time comes?”  
“Well my dear-?”  
“Imogene”  
“Well my dear Imogene, we can’t use the orb right now. We must wait until it’s dark for that is when the spirits are the most helpful. Until then why don’t you go and enjoy the fair, or at the very least continue looking for your brother,” she finished as if she could read my mind.  
* * * *  
The sun had just set on the Renaissance faire, the crowd had thinned considerably and the crisp evening summer air had permeated across the field in which the faire was held. As I lazily strolled my way back to Viviane’s I conceded to the fact that, as it was in that moment, I could understand why Anthony’s nerdy twelve-year-old brain had been so taken with this place. After a bit of searching I was able to re-find the out-cropping wherein the stall laid and by then it was plenty dark enough for Viviane’s little ritual.  
“Good you made it just in time,” she said as I approached her tent and with a little apprehension I took her outstretched hand was led further into the tent.  
As we past several shelves of a diverse assortment of potted plants I asked, “Do you sell plants as well?”  
“Oh no silly,” she said with a chuckle, “I collect them.”  
“Oh,” I responded and having remember what she had said earlier I stated, “but I don’t have any plants to give you.”  
“I think you’d be surprised,” she replied with a knowing smile.  
We sat down on either side of a small round table that was covered in fabric similar to the kind that enveloped her booth outside. In the center of the table was what I presumed she called the spirit orb. I had to admit; it was something spectacular. Though I was sure that its ethereal blue glow emanated not from the very heart of the sphere but from a light beneath it, and the shimmery cloudy substance that seemed to swirl inside it on its own conviction was probably no more than some glitter glue that had been shaken up, Viviane’s spirit orb was truly a wonder to behold.  
“And now let us begin,” she said placing her hands on the table in front of her. Not wanting to seem uneducated in the ways of spirit communication I followed suite. “O veni , spiritus , et permittit nos ut obvius a tua virtute,” she began to chant in a hoarse whisper with each repetition of the getting steadily louder. She kept going until the sphere in front of us suddenly changed from a piercing blue to a cheerful yellow. Then with a blood-curdling screech she fell, hunched over in her chair, and despite my concern for her well-being my fear kept me rooted in my chair. A sense of relief, and an itchy hand, washed over me as I realized that she was still muttering something. Looking up Viviane gave no indication that anything had gone awry in her attempts to contact the ‘spirit world’ and continued on with the session.  
“We are very fortunate Imogene,” she said with a glimmer in her eye, “the spirits are very giving today, now let us look for Anthony.” She began to wave her hands around to glowing orb and to my dismay a picture began to form inside it.  
“Finally,” I caught myself thinking, “after this year of agony I’ll finally know where Anthony is. No more parents fighting, no more psychiatrist visits, everything can go back to the way it should be,” I eagerly looked into the orb only to find, to my chagrin, a picture of one of the plants I had seen her watering earlier.  
“What kind of sick joke is this?’ I asked her scathingly  
“This is no joke,” she calmly replied, “you asked me to show you where your brother is and I have.”  
“I should have known better than to put my faith in you,” I said fumingly. While making my move to get up Viviane said to me.  
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere without giving me my payment.”  
“Like Hell you’re getting anything from me,” I replied, attempting to get up again only to realize that I could not. I hurriedly looked down to see what was keeping me there and saw that prickly vines had sprung from the silver base of the orb and had wrapped themselves tightly around my hands and all the way up my arms. And my legs, oh God my legs, it was not until then that I realized that it was not fear that had rooted me to my chair, but rather it had been my legs, which below my knee had turned into these brown tuberous growths. It was with unbridled terror that I glanced back up at the old witch. In her glass sphere I was able to catch a glimpse of my reflection, which did nothing to ease my suffering as all I saw was my neck drastically narrowing and turning green. I tried to scream, to call for help, only to find that my mouth too had disappeared.  
“Tut tut tut,” Viviane said, “it’s only worse if you struggle you know, but don’t worry I’ll take good care of you. I’ll even put you right next to your brother if you’d like.” It was not until then that I noticed that it also seemed as if I was shrinking in my seat, for it did not seem likely that she was getting any taller. The last thing I remember before it all went black was Viviane getting up from the table to greet a lady who was outside shouting if anyone had seen some girl named Imogene.


End file.
